


Earning Our Wings

by Gootbuttheichou



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angels, Canon Era, JeanMarco Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2572307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gootbuttheichou/pseuds/Gootbuttheichou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day One Prompt for JeanMarco Week 2014, Zero Gravity</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earning Our Wings

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://gootbuttheichou.tumblr.com)

It all happens too quickly; in the blink of an eye, a Titan’s hand comes from out of fucking nowhere, snagging on the wires of my maneuver gear and snapping one in half, and my head careens into a thick- and really, _really_ hard tree trunk, my vision fuzzy and swimming before the blurry outlines fade into white. I can vaguely hear my comrades still fighting; they must have been too busy to see what happened to me. Oh well.

I’m not sure what expression my face settles into as I lay dying- maybe a serene, twisted grin? Or perhaps terror? Or calm acceptance? These emotions must flicker through my brain at least once before I finally check out.

Funny, though; I used to be terrified of death before, but there’s really nothing I can do about it now, can I? I do wonder, though, if, in the end, my life- and death- was worth it. Did I serve Humanity? I know I tried my damnedest, at least.

I wonder how my mother will take the news. Probably not well.

At least I can say I’m dying without any lingering regrets; the Captain would have been proud of me.

Finally, my vision turns dark as blood seeps into my eyes, and everything falls silent.

I feel cold.

I feel cold, but I gradually feel warmth surrounding me, and I hear… bells? I feel dry, and light, and despite the fact that my eyes feel like they're closed, a soft light seeps through my lids. I take a cautious inhale, a slow exhale, wriggling my fingers and toes, and finally open my eyes.

It’s white. And bright. My brows shoot up as I glance to my left, then my right, then up- same sight. I look down- and my stomach drops.

Below me, I can see the world, as if looking through a cloudy film of glass, or ice: the rolling plains we'd been fighting on, the forest we'd been heading to, mountains in the background… and a body of water in the distance, the Walls nowhere in sight. A pained noise attempts to leave my throat, and then I hear movement behind me, and I whip around. “Who’s there?”

The movement doesn't still, and I squint as I see an outline making its way towards me, through white mist- and this time, the noise is wrenched out of my throat through a sharp gasp, eyes widening as I clap my hand over my mouth. "N-no… No way, no _fucking_ way…"

"Yes way," the figure says gently, and I stumble forward as Marco fully emerges from the fog, face lifted into that perfect, gentle smile of his; his face, just as whole as the day I met him.

"I-is it r-really?" I ask, fingers reaching out to feel him; he’s warm, just the way I remember him, and the tears start coming. "I-i-it is," I cry out, and he envelopes me in a hug as I fall into him, a hand gently placed upon my grasp of his shirt. “M-Marco, Marco, _Marco_ …”

"Hi Jean," he says, and I start to sob harder, looking up into his eyes- both of them, soft and bright and warm, full of life and color, brimming with tears. His hair is as soft and black as I remember, and my eyes search out every freckle, splattered across the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, the stray ones next to his right eye and mouth; his jaw is stronger, more defined than I remember, his shoulders wider and broader. And the idiot is _still_ taller than me.

"W-what have you been doing up here? Growing on me?" I choke out, burying my nose into the crook of his neck. He still smells the same.

"Well, yeah, I guess I did keep growing," he admits with a small chuckle; he’s silent, then says quietly, “I've also been watching you, Jean.”

Another sob wracks my body. "It’s been _eight_ years, Marco; I've missed you, I missed you _so_ , so much…"

"And I missed you, too, Jean," he whispers, drawing out another shuddering gasp from me.

"W-why?" I ask once I've recovered enough, and Marco starts stroking my hair with a little sigh.

"I don’t know myself, Jean; it just happened. Maybe it was my time, my fate; I think that’s what’s in store for everybody," he shrugs.

I stand there sniffling, pulling back to wipe at my eyes as I breathe out, "S-so… I’m dead. We’re dead." He nods, and my brows furrow as I look at his face again. "T-then why… How…?"

"When you die, your body goes back to your last whole, natural state of being," he explains, and I blink at him when he points to my temple, then down at the earth. "See? You crashed your head into a tree down there, but you’re fine up here."

"Oh." I look around once more, and he hums at my puzzled expression. "So- we're technically angels now, right? But… we don't have any wings, or halos, or- those gowns they're usually depicted in." Marco chuckles again, rubbing his nose and scratching the back of his head with a sheepish grin.

"Aha… well, that’s because, we aren't _technically_ in heaven yet," he explains, shoulders scrunching up at my questioning scowl, looking at his feet as he answers. "I was… waiting for you."

I stare at him, long and hard, then smack his shoulder. "You selfless little _ass_! You mean to tell you had no idea when I would kick the bucket, but you chose to wait here?!?"

"Yeah," he admits, and I bury my face back in his shoulder with a groan, collecting myself with a sigh and pursing my lips as I frown down at the earth.

"Will we still be able to see down there?" I ask, sighing when Marco answers with a hum. "Okay then, let’s go to heaven." I pause, looking at Marco again. "Uh… how do we…?"

"Once you're ready to go to heaven, you're able to float up there." I nod, and he grasps both his hands in mine with a soft smile. "Together then, on the count on three. Ready?"

I nod, and we both draw in a deep breath, counting aloud simultaneously. "One, two, three…" We lean down on three, pushing up through our knees and toes, and then we’re floating upwards, slowly.

"W-woah," I blink, looking down to my right and left, then up at Marco’s face, the both of us breaking into laughter. When I open my eyes again, I gape at the sight awaiting me. "M-Marco," I say, nodding my head over his shoulder, "you… y-you’ve got-"

"Wings," he says with a grin. "You’ve got them, too, Jean." My face splits into a grin, and we both start laughing again, our foreheads coming to rest against each other, and we both smile as we look into each other’s eyes.

"We're never gonna be separated again. I promise."


End file.
